


See You in the Breach

by greeneyedfeelsmonster



Category: Pacific Rim (2013), Warehouse 13
Genre: Angst, Crossover, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Romance, eventually, sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-03
Updated: 2014-04-03
Packaged: 2018-01-18 00:38:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1408525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greeneyedfeelsmonster/pseuds/greeneyedfeelsmonster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Claudia Donovan gets thrown into the post-Kaiju world by an artifact and loses her memory in the process. She's taken in by Valerie, the owner of the Striker Street Diner, and is working there when a scruffy Hercules Hansen wanders in and orders breakfast at two in the afternoon. Then things get interesting...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't have much of an explanation for this, other than that I was having a lot of sad headcanons about Herc and decided I wanted to write him some fluff, and I'd just introduced a friend to Warehouse 13 and the glorious creature that is Claudia Donovan. Things kind of escalated from there.
> 
> Also, this is my first attempt at a longer fic, so bear with me.
> 
> ETA: The rating may change later, depending on where I decide to go with it. Smut may happen. Or it may not. Depends on how shippy I get and whether the characters cooperate.
> 
> And please, don't be shy! Tell me what you think! I'm always open to suggestions or comments.

She opened her eyes. She was lying on the road in an unfamiliar street. The world looked different, wrong somehow, but she wasn’t sure why. She stood up and gasped as a sharp pain shot down her leg. It was bleeding, but it didn’t look bad. She looked around, spotted a diner up the road a bit, and her mouth watered a little at the smell of cooking food. Diner it is, then. She tested her leg and found it could bear a little weight, and limped up to the diner and inside.

A little bell rang above the door and a dark hand waved from behind the counter. “Be right with y—ouch!” A pretty black woman stood up, rubbing her head. “Damn computer. What can I get for you, hon?”

She swayed a little. “I—“

The woman—Valerie, declared her name tag—frowned in concern and came around the counter. “Hey, sit down,” she said gently, pulling her into a chair. “What’s your name, honey?”

“Name?” she said in confusion, then started to panic. “I don’t—oh god, I don’t know!”

“Whoa, easy!” Valerie looked her over. “That’s a nasty bump on your head—here, drink some water.”

The room was kind of swimming anyway, so she took a sip from the proffered glass. It helped a little.

“Drink that, okay? I’m going to go make a call.”

She sipped the water as Valerie ducked into the kitchen. One side of the conversation washed over her.

“Hey, Keisha, it’s Valerie. Would you mind coming over to the diner for a bit? … I know, I’m sorry, but it’s an emergency, this girl just stumbled in here, I think she’s been hit by a car or something. … No, it shouldn’t be too long, just the dinner regulars. … Oh, you’re a doll. You still have your key, right? … Good, good. … No, I’m leaving as soon as I get off. … Thanks, Keish, you’re a lifesaver.”

Valerie reappeared and Honey—she needed something to call herself, even if it did sound totally wrong—put down the water. “Going somewhere?”

Valerie nodded. “I’m driving you to the hospital. I know a bit of first aid, but you need a real doctor.”

For some reason the word “hospital” filled her with fear. Something of it must have showed in her face, because Valerie patted her shoulder reassuringly. “It’s okay, you just need to get checked out. I’ll be there the whole time.”

As soon as they walked in, she started shaking. She didn’t object when Valerie said her name was “Honey”—she was too distracted. The sterile walls, the generic artwork, and the smell—oh god, the smell!—crisp ozone that made her think of sparks and scorched hair and a sadisitc laugh. Part of her mind heard the doctor talk about sedating her, and she let out a hoarse whimper before he could finish. Her grip on Valerie’s hand tightened so much that she worried it might bruise, but she couldn’t help it; it was the only thing keeping her from losing it completely. “Don’t let them shock me, don’t let them, please…” She didn’t know how many times she repeated it, but Valerie held her hand and stroked her forehead.

“Shhhh, shh, it’s okay, they can’t do anything without your consent. They’re not going to shock you, they just want to give you something so you’re not so scared. You’ve got a bump on your head and an ugly cut on your leg, and they need you to relax so they can fix you up. Is that okay? Can they do that?”

Holding back tears, Honey struggled to control her breathing and nodded. She looked away as they gave her an injection, and the rest of the visit passed by in a fog. They treated her leg—it was a long cut, not deep but strangely scorched around the edges—and checked out her head, but couldn’t find any reason for the memory loss. They wanted to keep her overnight, but she was aware enough to veto that immediately. No way was she staying there any longer than she had to.

An orderly helped Valerie get her in the car. She was exhausted and nearly asleep when Valerie asked if she had a place to stay.

Honey snorted. “If I do, I don’t know where it is.”

“Well, you do now.”

* * *

Honey woke up the next morning in a comfortable bed with only the vaguest memory of being helped up the stairs and under the covers. She didn’t remember much about the hospital, either, but it was enough to make her ears turn as red as her hair as she limped into the kitchen and saw Valerie look up and smile.

“Eggs?”

“Sure.” She paused awkwardly. “Um… sorry about that—in the hospital, I mean. I don’t know why that happened.”

Valerie scooped some eggs onto a plate and set it in front of her. “You don’t have to apologize. Lots of people are afraid of hospitals, especially after the war.”

“War? What war?”

Valerie raised an eyebrow. “The Kaiju War? Huge alien monsters coming out of a cosmic breach in the ocean to attack all our cities?”

“Oh my god, for real? Did we beat them?”

Valerie gave her a very strange look. “Yeah…” she said, “We built giant robots and used a bomb to close the Breach. You really don’t remember any of that?”

Honey shook her head. “Nope.” It was a bit troubling that she’d apparently forgotten an entire war, but at least it distracted her from being embarrassed.

When Valerie went to open the diner, Honey went with her, wanting to help out however she could. Valerie told her it wasn’t necessary, but she wanted to do something useful. When Honey remarked on the weird key and voice access that opened the door, Valerie shot her another strange look but said nothing.

“How can I help?” asked Honey as soon as they were inside.

“Set up the chairs and distribute the napkin dispensers?”

She nodded.

“Great, thanks. Now I have to go struggle with this damn computer, be right back.”

Honey frowned while she pulled the chairs off the tables and set places with silverware and napkin dispensers, her hands moving automatically as lines of computer code scrolled through her mind. Come to think of it, what was a computer doing in a diner, anyway?

She got her answer when she finished with the tables and walked over to where Valerie was heaping abuse on the machine in question. It seemed to be a central control for the cooking equipment. It looked totally foreign, and yet… “Can I try?”

Valerie stepped back and waved at it. “Be my guest.”

The computer didn’t turn out to be as strange as it looked. It was certainly faster than anything she was used to, and the interface was holographic, which was a bit weird, but it was still a computer and it still ran on the same principles that all computers ran on. Within a few minutes it emitted a series of tones, and Valerie looked on in amazement as the fryer started up and the ovens heated. Honey looked up with a grin, her eyes sparkling. “Better?”

“You’re hired.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Herc is kind of a mess. Mako makes him get out of bed and take a walk. Waffles ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a different plan for this chapter, but then Claudia derailed it. She's good at that.
> 
> If you have any comments or suggestions please do post them!

It was the bloody phone again. Herc groaned and half-heartedly fished around in the sheets, grabbing it just as it stopped ringing. He held onto it, though, because it was definitely too much to hope that Raleigh or Mako, depending on whose turn it was, wouldn’t call back immediately. Sure enough, it rang again. “What?” he said, not bothering to hide the annoyance in his voice.

“Have you been out of the house today?” It was Mako; Raleigh would be less direct.

“Yes,” said Herc.

“Liar,” said Mako, and Herc smiled grudgingly. “Go take a walk. And eat something.”

“Fine. Going now.”

He ended the call, but not before he heard Mako’s “Don’t you dare go back to sleep!”

Right. He sighed and rolled out of bed, pulled on a pair of jeans and a plain t-shirt, and grabbed two socks that he was pretty sure didn’t match but he didn’t care. Shoes, shoes, where were—ah. He rubbed Max’s head as the bulldog trotted up and dropped Herc’s shoes at his feet. “Good boy.”

Max cocked his head to the side and Herc sighed and scratched behind his ears. “I know, boy. Me too.”

It was a beautiful day. He hadn’t bothered to shave, so the light breeze tickled his chin as the sun wove in and out among fluffy white clouds. There were a lot of people out walking, exchanging pleasantries as they passed each other on the sidewalk. Herc nodded to the ones who said hello, but didn’t stop to talk. Nobody liked a grouch on a pretty day.

He wandered aimlessly for a while, letting Max lead the way. If he’d been paying attention, he’d have avoided Striker Street, but when he looked up and realized where they were, he gave a little shrug and kept walking. Chuck would have loved having a street named after their Jaeger, and Stacker would have made fun of him in that subtle British way he had, but Herc wasn’t sure how he felt about it.

Shying away from that line of thought, he stopped in front of a clean window and squinted at the neatly painted “Striker Street Diner” with “Breakfast Served All Day” right beneath it. Inside sat red booths with shiny chrome trim, a spotless white floor, and another strip of chrome running around the perimeter of the room at about his eye level. There were also a surprising number of people occupying the various seats. It was two o’clock in the afternoon, but three of the booths were filled and four large, slightly shady-looking men sat on stools at the counter, eyeing the tall redhead manning the griddle, waffle irons, and grill. Herc narrowed his eyes. Come to think of it, waffles sounded good. Snorting softly at himself, he tied Max’s lead to the bench outside the door, went inside, and glowered preemptively in case anyone recognized him.

He needn’t have bothered. Either he wan’t as famous as he thought he was or he didn’t look at all like he had in the interviews. He tried to convince himself it was the former, but a slightly distorted reflection in the chrome strip confirmed it was the latter.

As he slid onto the stool at the far corner of the counter, Herc caught another glimpse of himself—scruff and all—and decided to reserve judgment on the other men.

The redhead seemed to be unaware of them, which wasn’t so odd considering she had her back turned. Herc studied her curiously out of the corner of his eye. She wore jeans and a long blue shirt beneath a black jacket that ended halfway down her back. A silver chain peeked out from underneath the strap of her apron, and—were those converse? Where on earth had she gotten them?

Realizing he was staring and she probably hadn’t heard him come in, Herc cleared his throat to get the girl’s attention. She turned around and jumped when she saw him, knocking a plate off the counter in the process.

“Dude!” she said, “Way to give me a heart attack!”

“Sorry,” he said, wincing. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

She took a deep breath and exhaled sharply, blowing at the single streak of bright purple hair that had fallen into her face when she turned around, then gave him a sheepish grin. “It’s cool, you just startled me. Can I get you something?”

Herc blinked; she was older than he’d initially thought. “Uh… waffles?”

“How many? Wait, no, let me guess. You look like a three-waffle kind of guy.”

“Sounds perfect.”

She poured batter into three of the waffle irons from a refrigerated container, then turned back to him. “Comin’ right up,” she said, smiling.

“Thanks, um—?“ he gestured to her lack of nametag.

She hesitated, shooting a glance at the men at the other end of the counter, who had watched the exchange with slightly more than friendly interest. So she had noticed them. She took a breath as if she was about to say something, then stopped. Before the silence had a chance to get awkward, she said, “Call me Violet.”

There was something a little off about the way she said it, but he decided not to say anything. Instead, he gave her his most charming smile, reached his hand across the counter, and said, “Hello Violet. I’m Herc.”

Violet shook his hand and tilted her head. “Interesting name. Is it short for something?”

One of the men who’d been watching narrowed his eyes. “Unless I miss my guess, little lady,” he said, “It’s short for Hercules. Thought you looked familiar.”

He hadn’t spoken loudly, but there happened to be a lull in the surrounding conversations at exactly that moment. All activity in the diner ground to a halt as patrons stopped talking to stare at him. Herc pressed his lips together and unconsciously straightened his back.

Violet frowned. “What are you all staring at?”

It did the trick. Reminded that staring was rude, most of the people turned back to each other and continued their conversations. Naturally they were still watching him, but it wasn’t as bad when they were pretending not to. Herc breathed a sigh of relief, relaxing slightly, then noticed Violet was still frowning.

“No seriously, what?” she asked.

Herc looked at her in disbelief, and her face turned bright red.

“It’s to do with the war, isn’t it?” she said; then, so quietly he almost missed it: “The one I can’t remember.”

She was serious. Herc took a breath and let it out slowly, then put two and two together. “Your name,” he said, equally quietly, “You don’t remember that either, do you?”

Violet shook her head, but Herc was saved from having to follow up that question by a sudden, high-pitched beeping coming from the waffle irons. She seemed to share his relief, because she flashed him a bright smile and said, “Waffles!”

The waffles were delicious. Violet ducked away as soon as she’d served him, disappearing behind the counter, and everyone else kept their distance, so he ate them in silence. At one point Violet popped her head up and said, “Hey, if anyone comes in can you tell them to ping me?” She nodded at a bell he’d failed to notice when he came in.

Herc wondered if she’d meant to say “ding” instead of “ping”, but didn’t ask. Judging by the muttering coming from behind the counter, she was busy, so he left her alone. He was curious now, though, so he listened more closely. What he heard only mystified him further; she was saying something about computers and a mouse. He had no idea how she even knew about computer mice, since they’d gone out of use long before she could possibly have been born.

Herc left the diner in a thoughtful mood, already going over the encounter in his mind as he untied the patiently waiting Max. Somewhere between the diner and his house, he decided he wanted to go back and talk to Violet some more.

Besides, the waffles were really good.


End file.
